Age of Wolverine
by IronRaven
Summary: What if Wolverine lead the Brotherhood of Mutants, and Magneto had helped train the X-men. Who would he gather? What would they do? Some langauge, a few hints of mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**Age of Wolverine**

_What if..._

_...Magneto stayed loyal to his long time friend, Charles Xavier, and helped to form and train the X-men? And there were still those who saw human domination of the earth as a threat to all mutants? What is one of those was a gifted warrior and leader, known by the name Wolverine..._

Logan studied the map tacked to the wall across from him. Pins marked the location of forces, friends, enemies, and traitors. He'd rather have used the computers, but they'd only arrived last night, and the old fashioned way worked well enough to fight hundreds of wars. His could survive without monstrous computer screens. He had his laptop at one elbow, a pad and pen at the other.

In another era, he'd have sat upon a throne, possibly of skulls. That would have been so very uncomfortable. He much preferred the now. Nine ergonomic, high backed chairs surrounded an oval shaped conference table. His black polo shirt strained against his movements, tailored to fit his broad shoulders and narrow waist. A complex watch was around his left wrist; sunglasses were in the open collar of his shirt. He wore a short, square cut beard. He could have blending into a corporate boardroom as a power broker, or into a low barroom full of cowboys, lumberjacks and oilfield roughnecks. His age was indeterminate- he could have been a hard living 30 or a well maintained 50, but maybe he was as ageless and eternal as the sky.

There was a subtle throat clearing. "Sire, you had asked to see me?"

"Yes, Destiny. I'm sorry about the sudden relocation, were you able to move your library?" His seer was someone he treated with kid gloves. She had foreseen the possible futures- angering her might cause her to leave something out, and he didn't like having bad intelligence.

"Yes. And the quarters for Mystique and I are quite suitable, thank you." A few hundred years ago, she'd have worn robes and had a pet owl. She was instead dressed in a crisply tailored suit. In this sanctuary, she did not hide her eyes. Her special vision was respected among them. "If you've summoned me, I foresee a question in my future."

He smiled. Destiny's sense of humor was dry, mostly irony. "Yes. With Xavier dead, what price to the morale of the X-Men?"

The blind woman reached into her jacket, taking out a deck of cards marked in braille. She laid them out, according to the patterns of the Tarot. Running her fingers over them, she hissed. "They will retreat into their cave, but only to regroup. Already Magneto is planning to-"

Logan's feet left the floor as his chair snapped back. "DAMN YOU TOAD!" Reaching for the back of his chair, he grabbed the little thief by the front of his tunic, throwing the kid aside. He glared at his court jester. "How many times have I told you not to do that?" The last time there had been special demolitions charges on the table. Soviet surplus, just little ones. Sure, they were designed to be abused by infantrymen, but even a small nuke was nothing to screw around near.

"I'm sorry, Master." The froglike mutant cowered pitifully before him. He'd seen what happened to others who'd angered his lord and master. He bowed his head to the worn carpeting, sniveling. "I just wanted to see."

"Then you stand up on your feet like a person! And ask permission before you peek. Destiny, do you have a potion that requires the eyes of a toad?" The flare of anger was hot within Logan, but it wasn't entirely truthful. The little runt needed manners; they'd finally convinced him that soap and hot water on a regular basis wouldn't kill him. A proper upbringing would have given him that.

"No, my Lord. But I'm sure things will change." She had the unnerving habit of finding someone she was talking to, looking into their eyes with her blind ones. They found Toad's- her annoyance was heartfelt. "Run away, little fool, because I know that Remy has a recipe for frog legs!"

Remy, an interesting case. He'd recruited the thief for his mutant abilities and found a liaison with an underworld that stretched from to all points east of the Mississippi. But Destiny saw potential with the cards- a seer that could go into the field was certainly something that could improve their abilities. Although perhaps it was his attraction to Destiny and Mystique's foundling, Rogue, rather than any true ability that led to the attention. Logan knew he'd have to be careful with those two- ambitious, powerful and intelligent, they were one of his best teams. If they wanted his throne, they could potentially succeed. They had sworn loyalty to him, but he'd broken oaths himself.

He'd told them they could one day have all of the South as their province when he ruled North America. But if they could have it all... The way to ensure their loyalty was with loyalty. Rogue and Remy were honorable, they wanted to protect mutants like themselves and the best way was to beat the normals. Rogue's two mothers were possibly a different story, but they would hold follow him so long as he was strong.

Destiny stroked the cards with her fingers. "Magneto... he plans to rise again. He consults with his political allies. They may pledge mundane troops to him, but it will take time. Already, public faces point the blame for our latest incident to unnamed others. If he gets what he seeks, then he shall undo all that we have accomplished when he declares the existence of mutants to the world."

He sighed, his brow knitting under the weight of a crown he didn't wear yet. "If they are disorganized, then perhaps now is the time to strike, Destiny."

She smiled coldly, laying out more cards. The milky-grey eyes twinkled. "Yes, my Lord, striking now will remove Xavier's children from the board as an organized force. But it must be soon, with the suddenness of the viper's fang."

"Then we will need cannon fodder." His fingers pressed to the earpeice he wore. It didn't have much range, but it had a lot of encryption. Every so often he'd half heard a whisper from it, but he'd not consciously heard the messages not for him. "Pietro, Wanda, could you come to the war room please? Quickly. Break. All senior staff to the war room in five minutes for conference. Logan out."

He nodded with the acknowledgments, unaware of his reaction. He'd led the Brotherhood of Mutants well these past years, he and his mate. Their daughters would grow up safe and unafraid, part of the leadership of a brave new world. A world they were making. Most of those here wanted to create a world were the mutants ruled and were protected from the common, normal humans. They agreed with his vision. But the first two just wanted to piss off their old man. And their personal life was... disturbing. He would deal with his courier and sorceress first.

There was a gust of wind as a green and red object streaked into the room. It resolved into two forms, one being carried by the other. The Red Witch kissed Quicksilver's cheek as she hoped down. Pietro blurred towards the map on the wall, studying it for a second, seeing how their forces were arrayed. "So, got a job for us, Bossman?"

Wanda at least had the sense to bow politely. "How may we serve, Lord Wolverine?"

"Go to the Morlocks. Tell Evan we will call for his people very soon. They should prepare for an assault on the Xavier Institute. And if they are very good, I will return Caliban to them."

"But... Caliban likes it here. He doesn't want to go back to the sewers."

Logan smirked. The finder had been easy enough to recruit. Real food, money, and if he accidentally broke the occasional hooker, no one minded so long as they didn't find leftovers in weird places. Give the man cash, fresh fruit and his own refrigerator and he was happy. "You don't tell them that. Let them think he is my hostage. And remind Evan that Storm is still out there- but be sublte. Ask Spyke how his scars feel."

Wanda smiled. That lightening strike hadn't been from Evan's aunt, but from her spell. "Yes, my Lord."

"Once you have completed that, find where Trask is building his latest toy. I want to borrow it from him when we move."

Peitro giggled. He like Trask's robots, too slow to hit him, too weak to survive his sister, but they could pound on the X-geeks. "Anything else sir? A pizza from Lombardi's? Something from Katz's Deli? Broadway tickets?"

"Don't get cute with me, boy!" Logan's fist banged down on the table top. Unlike with Toad, Logan's frustration with Quicksilver _ was_ quite real. "If you think I will suffer fools patiently, ask Creed." The ability to heal almost any wound included severed limbs. But when you'd been cut down to a torso that fit in a small metal trunk, there was no room to grow. Things broke and twisted freakishly. Sabertooth's moaning and banging in the steel prison unnerved those transporting him during this last relocation.

Wanda placed a hand over her brother's lips as she lowered her head. "We beg your forgiveness, Lord Wolverine. Pietro meant nothing by it. I shall discipline him for his outburst."

"Very well, I shall take his wit in the spirit it was intended." Yes, those two were a dagger aimed at the small of his back. He'd have to deal with them harshly one day soon. With luck, their own father would have to do it in battle. It would be delicious, seeing him slay his own children, the killers of his oldest friend. It would destroy Magneto. "Go now."

This time they both bowed. As they left, they paused in the doorway to let Rogue pass. She was now safe to touch, after Jean Grey had been consumed. It had been life altering for her. But she was still more than able to suck the life out of someone with a touch.

"Hi sis!" Both of the Maximoffs spoke in chorus. "Bye sis!"

"Ah ain't your sister, you misbegotten freaks!" Rogue truly disliked them. She was willing to drain them dry and add their powers to her own, but honestly, she wasn't sure she wanted those two in her head. The idea made her want to take her skin off and get it dry cleaned. They weren't her siblings. She was Mystique's foster daughter, but these two were no kin of hers.

"Hey, you should be nicer to me! I'm the fastest thing on two feet; it might be dangerous to piss me off Rogue."

"Ah'm sure yah sister knows all about how fast ya are."

"At least I can get touched without pretending to be someone else." Wanda's eyes flashed with anger. This had been brewing for months. A normal catfight with high school girls was usually either funny or vicious. With supervillianesses, it had a habit of being hard on property values.

"ENOUGH!" Logan came to his feet. The vein in his temple was throbbing, he could feel the start of a migraine. His claws were out. "I am not taking over this world to put up with your petty childish squabbles! Pietro, Wanda, I gave you orders. Add this to them- I'm sick of your shit, and it will end NOW!"

"Yes, Mi'Lord!" With a flash, they were gone. Green and red, black and white, these were the colors Logan had associated with Christmas. The association had killed his holiday spirit. That, and what they considered suitable holiday décor was macabre, even to his hardened heart. Their voices were clear in the hallway. "Bye Momma Mystie!"

"Rogue, I expect better of you. As does our Lord." Destiny had sat through the exchange. As quiet as she was, if she sat still, some people seemed to not be able to see her. Did they think that blindness equaled deafness- she didn't know.

"Ah'm sorry, Wolverine, Mom. They just... you know." She slumped for a second, then stood up straighter. "The generators check out, an' the fuel and water tanks. We lost some of the siege supplies from mice, but we can eat them to if we hafta."

Logan nodded, accepting the apology and her report.

Mystique was still glowering when she entered the room. That she hadn't drawn the heavy pistol at her side was a sign she was in reasonably good mood, or the ammunition situation was dire. She wasn't above wasting a round or two to drive away that annoyance. Yes, she'd married Magneto. He was charismatic. He was attractive. He was rich. He was soft. Her stepbrats liked to remind her of that mistake. But he wasn't willing to go far enough. She divorced him with a shotgun- fortunately he'd been fast enough to survive, but only barely. Mother and daughter made eye contact and they shared an eyeroll.

Logan stroked his beard- now that he thought about it, Destiny looked very happy with herself. His arsenal was fine. Her nod to him confirmed it. She didn't have to say anything if there wasn't need, it was acceptable- after what had happened, Mystique rarely spoke.

Toad wheeled in a coffee service, dragging an office chair behind him. He'd heard his master's bellow at the Terrible Twins- there was pretty good odds another chair had gone to the furniture Valhalla. They were just the right size to be used as projectiles when punctuation was needed. That the current one survived was a sign of two things. One, the anger management books were helping. Two, Toad could sit down. Not just his master's courtly fool, he was his Lord's valet. Gas, food, travel routes that didn't group them too close but kept the guerrillas close enough break roadblocks and jails if needed, these mechanics of the relocation had been his duties and he was tired. Toad needed a servant of his own. Or a clone.

Remy slipped into the conference room without a whisper. He took the chair next to Rogue's, and her hand. "Mon ami, 'der are no bugs or cam'ras to be found. All Ah foun' was some empty beer cans an signs of a camp fire- kids. Don't recommend usin' that spot for a fire from now on." From the size of the smile, you could guess the amount of explosives he'd left there in case someone did reuse it- more than enough.

Right behind him was the reason Wolverine never changed course. She could sooth his savagery with a touch, one often needed lest his temper take them someplace other than victory. She'd been called many things; Silver Fox was but one of her names. She had been born to live forever, but she had also undergone genetic therapy with Logan's healing factor. Logan stood, embracing her, whispering his name for her. "My Lady." She kissed him lightly. "My Lord."

They did what they did out of love for their own kind. They would be merciful on the humans when they ruled. They would be spoken of for centuries, in the same manner as Ghengis Khan or Alexander the Great or Napoleon.

There was a muted bang as the last of the inner circle joined them. Kurt Darkholme unwrapped himself from his two passengers, Laura and Katrina, the daughters of Lord and Lady Wolverine. He took a seat, careful to stain nothing with his greasy hands before being offered a towel by Toad. The motor pool was in good shape, they'd brought out all but the largest of the drones. All the vehicles were fueled, armed, and bedded down under visual and thermal camouflage nets.

The twins approached their father with a casualness only they could show. Laura was physically stronger, Kat the wiser, but to the eyes of a normal human the differences were infinitesimal. Kat pushed her hair back from her face. "Hi Daddy. The servers are set up, and the network will be 100% this evening. We have satellite links coming online within the hour, and the electronic defenses have already been tested on the landline. I think we smoked a hacker ranch in China." She giggled in a manner completely out of character with the claws she could unsheathe, or the compact submachine gun slung from her shoulder. Even painted pink, there was no hiding the lethality of the small weapon.

Laura was the taciturn one, only her Toady and bloodshed made her smile. "Sentries are posted and the basic boobytraps are out. I have teams fortifying fighting positions within the building and heavy weapons pits outside." Her claws were the match of her sister's, but she wore armour that she only needed to improve her viciousness, not to save her life, and a combat harness bristling with weapons. A string of scalps hung from her shoulder.

They had joined him at this hidden stronghold. A shadow company had bought this hotel years ago, in a poor town at the base of what had once been a ski resort. Time and the interstate had passed it by. He'd paid cash, and made sure that everyone had something better to think about than the mysterious owners of a hotel that never opened but was always maintained. They also hadn't seemed to notice when four jetcopters and a convoy of vans, SUVs and two trucks had come in the night.

His soldiers were around them, preparing for the battle they craved. Not just mutants, but mercenaries and the disaffected. Some were like the Maximoffs, fighting to feed their own madness. The promise of riches and positions of lesser power in the future called some. Others were drawn to their Lord's message, a new messiah for a coming dark age. Many of those believed that he would gift his most loyal human followers with an upgrade. It was whispered that there was a way to make them mutants. They were his most fanatical, they would die by the dozens to show their worthiness. He loved them for it.

Those in this room were not merely his soldiers. They was his commanders, his circle of advisers. Without them, over half a century of planning and fighting would be for naught. They'd been with him through blood, mud and fire, danced and sang with him in victory, and fled in the night when standing on shaky ground. Yes, some of them were ambitious enough for any ten men, but he could never rule without advisers and leaders he could trust.

Lord Wolverine beamed as he tapped his earpeice, tieing it into the loud speakers through out the complex. He faced the room, arms spread wide, expansive. "Welcome, my Brotherhood of Mutants. My friends! Today marks the beginning of the end of the old order. We have already slain traitors to mutantkind, and while they grow weaker, we grow stronger by the day. They think we are disorganized, that we are in retreat, but each of you has told me that we anything but. In five days time we will strike again at the X-men, and we will destroy them once and for all."

"A year from now, the humans shall know the true meaning of evolution!"

**---Author's Notes:**  
I'm not sure if there will be more here. There may well be.

Who chose to stand with Lord Wolverine, and who followed the soft path preached by Professor X and Magneto? And why did Magnus stay with Charles, rather than taking the path of megalomania that we all know so well? I know I've got a lot of "what happened" in here, and if you think it was on purpose, yep.

And for those of us who haven't been around half of forever, Silver Fox was part of the Weapon X program, without her memories of having been Logan's lover in the early 20th century. After the first team scattered, she ended up as Madame Hydra on Earth-616 (the main Maverl'verse) for a time; it is unknown if the parallel for the Evo'verse has the same chain of events. If she and Logan are lovers again on this Earth, and Creed was part of the team until he pissed off Logan too many times, did anyone else from the Weapon X program survive and join Lord and Lady Wolverine?

And Laura and Kat are a bit older than we see them in the Evo'verse- around 20.


	2. Chapter 2

**Age of Wolverine  
Chapter Two**

"Thank you, Mr President. I shall share your concerns with my students."

Magnus set the phone down. For more than a decade, he'd been the number two man at the Xavier Institute. Charles had been gone only a few days, but he already found himself at the big desk. Charles' fancy chair was still in the corner; it would stay there. The heavier, more rugged one he'd used normally had been crumpled, the titanium and adamantium twisted and folded like a soda can. This was Charles' office, Magnus was just borrowing it.

The President had said no. They wouldn't be getting troops to help protect the students. Magnus knew he'd never get what he'd asked for, special ops troops or part of the FBI hostage rescue team or some of the Marines that guard Camp David. He'd have been willing to settle for a couple of postal inspectors and an Eagle Scout. Something. Anything, to guard the students. Yes, they'd been taught to protect themselves, even doing so proactively, but if the rumors were true, they'd be facing two-to-one odds on the mutants themselves, never mind the normal followers of their enemy. Fury had broken the law and sent his troops to back up the Institute security, but they'd been pulled out six hours after the last fight. There was a debate if Fury would get a criminal trial for using federal agents for personal agendas, or a court marshal for deploying troops on US soil without proper approval. Or just tossed in a hole and forgotten.

"Damn it."

Foot steps in the hall stopped, then the slipping sounds of a moonwalk. Wade leaned back, looking in. "What's the bad news, Boss?"

_Boss_. Wilson had been the first one to call Charles that. The students had picked it up to, calling him that as much as _The Prof_ when they thought he wasn't listening. "Don't call me that!"

He couldn't replace Charles, he knew he couldn't, he didn't even want to try. What Magnus really wanted to do was put his head down on Charles' desk and cry. They'd been like brothers for so long, they'd shared everything. They'd eaten out of the same cold ration cans, slept in the dirt in a desert and two different jungles, spoken before Congress and the UN as a team. Magnus had been there for Charles when his back had been broken; after Raven had put three loads of buckshot in Magnus, he woke up to Charles' grim face. Magnus had been looking the other way, almost a mile away, when Charles fell. If he'd been there, maybe Charles would be alive. "I'm sorry Wade; I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know that all of you have faith in me, but I can't replace him. Call me something else, I'll even take Maggie."

The former mercenary nodded. "Okie-dokie, Maggie. So, the Big Cheesehead said that we are on our own, right?" If Wade wasn't laughing, it was time to give up. When he took off his shirt, the tattoo on his left arm said it all- 'life, you aren't getting out of it alive." The one on the other side completed the instructor's perspective, 'today is good day to die, but tomorrow would be better.'

But it wasn't a good sign when Wilson wore his swords and pistols inside the mansion. Charles had hated seeing the grounds become an armed camp, with sand bags and barriers. They'd already sent most of the students out, some home, most to safe houses with their families. The instructors and the older students had stayed. Some because they refused to leave.

"We are indeed."

"Should I tell everyone, or do you want to call a war council?"

"Both and neither. Get Lance and Storm. I'll find Hank and Scott."

"You sure? Scottie-boy is about seven cookies short of a six-pack." It wasn't hard to blame him. "Oh, and he found Hank's scotch. All of it."

_---AoW_

Scott leaned his head back, swallowing deep. The amber fluid burned as it went down. He coughed, wasting the last mouthful against his arm. The first two bottles were empty beside him.

The Professor would be disappointed and more than a little angry, but Scott didn't care. Jean would have been pissed. But they weren't here any more, so it didn't matter. He hurt, this was medicinal. In less than four years, he'd lost everything. He'd put Maddy down for her nap, and she never woke up. Then Jean was murdered. That had loosened something in his head. Jean's death and being kidnapped by Rogue had driven Nathan mad- he said the 'skunk-witch had mommy's voice.' With his sense of reality and illusion shattered by what had happened and an already strong telepathic gift, he'd been committed. The cracks in Scott's composure had worsened dramatically.

And now the Professor.

Scott had tried, but they were too fast and too powerful. He thought it was a they- they struck from behind and done so fast. He'd lost his visor and was then thrown off the the bridge before they killed Xavier. He couldn't see it, he'd have destroyed the Williamsburgh Bridge if he opened his eyes. But he'd heard it. The screaming as they crushed him and the chair. All Scott could do was not make it worse and not drown.

Scott needed a lot of medicine.

He had almost opened his eyes. But he would have killed hundreds. He couldn't do that, not even to give the man who had taught him to master his gifts the final mercy. It had taken several long minutes for Professor X to die.

He drank again. He looked at the mound of earth next to him- they hadn't had time to place the Professor's marker yet. Just to bury him. Scott had already said he was sorry. He knew it was ok, the Professor forgave everything and everyone.

It was a clear night. Scott could see the little specks of light, twinkling. He wondered if they had peace on them? Had the good men died there to? Scott lay down next to the mound. "I'd rather it was me in there; I'd sell my soul to trade places.... How are we going to win now?"

Scott wouldn't admit it out loud, not even now, but he knew the truth. They were screwed. They had a few strong mutants with combat training, but the students were taught a path of peace. They could fight if they had to, but they were trained to be guardians and protectors. Wolverine had gathered _weapons_ at his side. Wade was the only one they had who was on the same level as the killers who they were fighting.

Scott belched loudly. "'Scuse me. I don't know if I've told you, but we're boned." _Maybe I am drunk._

There was a noise. Training took over, bringing Cyclops into a low crouch, one hand out for balance, the other resting lightly on his visor. There it was again. "Who's there?" He looked around slowly. "14."

They had decided on a simple and safe challenge code a long time ago. They would set a number every night. If you heard a possible enemy, you'd say a number. They would counter with a number that added or subtracted to yours would give the number of the day. Today's was ten; a voice saying anything other than 'four' would get a photon blast.

The sound was behind him. Scott twisted, looking. Then pain.

Lots of pain. It hit his back, low and to the side, traveling into his guts. Instintiely, he reached for his belly, fingers finding the point of a broad, thick blade sticking out of him. He gasped as it twisted, and kicked out away from his spine. He couldn't scream, the pain was too great to even breath. As the blade moved, his legs buckled, going to his knees.

He tried to stand, but his legs weren't working right. He fell forward, onto his hands. He was cold and tingly, except for the burning fire that was his side. His arms wouldn't hold his weight. He collapsed onto the Professor's grave. His eyes closed. _I'm sorry, Professor. I screwed up._

_Shhh... It will be alright, Scott. I'll hold you up, but I need you to lift your head. _The voice of Charles Xavier was unchanged in death. Strong and kind and fair and firm and wise. Scott knew he could lean on the Professor for a little while.

"I'll try." Scott lifted his head enough to see the fleeing shape, a shadow with long hair. The target was small, slim. A girl. The wheel turned under his fingers, a needle beam. He hadn't thought he could miss, but he had.

He shot again. And again. He knew he was connecting, he had to be. Even drunk, he wasn't that bad a shot, but it didn't seem to matter. He slumped against the sod covered earth.

_I'm not strong enough, Professor. I'm done._

_Try hard, Scott. Do it for Jean and Maddy and Nate; they need you to be strong. Now! Do it now!_

Scott flushed. He didn't like the Professor scolding him. Not because he was embarrassed, but because he knew that he could have done better. And it wasn't fair bringing his family into this. Chastened and angry, he lifted his fingers as he pushed himself up higher. He could feel something falling against his side, but that didn't matter.

With a sobbing breath, Scott twisted the wheel fully open. A blast like this could punch through a mountain in a few minutes. It was too much, he couldn't keep his balance with one hand- he locked the visor open. His head twisted in an arc as his other hand rested on the Professor. He could feel the warmth and a heartbeat under his palms.

The crimson line of destruction vaporized shrubs and trees- nothing was standing higher than mid thigh between here and the cliff. His head felt heavy as his vision tunneled to almost nothing. The arch got closer to the ground as his vision shattered the air itself, making it burn.

His elbows bent and gave up as his eyes closed. He was tired. He couldn't feel much. He didn't think he got her- he'd seen her upright and running towards the edge. Not much could have survived that. He tried to speak, but his lips didn't feel right. _I missed her. She got away._

_It is alright, my boy- you did all that you could. You always did._

Scott was aware of his breathing. He had to think about it, and it was getting harder. He could feel arms around him, the strong, comforting arms of his adopted father. He could smell the aftershave and wool.

Scott frowned. His diaphragm didn't want to work. He was flashing back to memories. His first time here, at the Institute. It wasn't the Institute yet. He was only seven. There was the tall man with the silvery-white hair, he was kind and welcoming. His wife was there, she was strange- she was blue and had a funny accent, but she was nice. There were some other children. The strong, laughing man in the red and black shirt. And the man in the chair. Professor Xavier. "Hello Scott. I think we all have a lot to learn from each other."

Scott returned to the now. There was a new pain. No, not a pain. It was quiet. In his head. He couldn't hear his heart.

His eyes were open. He could see a star. It wasn't a little pink point, it was a little white one. It faded.

_Hello Scott. We've been expecting you._

_Dad? _The source of the voice looked like his adoptive father. But he knew it wasn't. That man had been powerful, he had a strong will and presence, but this was many orders of magnitude beyond that. _God?_

_Right the second time, Scott._

In a way, it made sense. Give the new arrival a familiar face, someone they know. That was ok, God could look like Dad. The Devil-Rogue had stolen Jean's soul and voice. It wasn't fair, but it balanced.

But Scott had never thought God would want to be bald.

_---AoW_

Scott Xavier-Summers shuddered once, and was gone. He stared upward, his eyes bare. The heat had fused the remains of the visor to his skin. No light shown in them.

_---AoW_

Magnus sighed with resignation. Scott's mental health had been a growing concern, that was why he had been removed from his place as a team leader. Lance had replaced his friend and rival. "Another bender will not take away his pain. This is becoming a problem. I'll talk with him, in the mor-"

Behind Wade, the library windows flared into the light of a new day as the scream of a heavy energy weapon rattled the glass. Both men knew what could do that. Wade moved first, drawing his pistols as he sprinted across the room to jump through the doors with a crash. A boot found the railing, he stepped up and off. Wade Wilson landed on his feet, just in time to see the younger man fall. "SCOOTER!"

Ten powerful strides brought the enhanced warrior to the side of his comrade, skidding down on both kneed at his side. "Scott. Scott, can you hear me?" The lights were coming on, illuminating the scene. "Slim! Come on man, give me some love, show me a sign."

No, not lights. The trees were burning. It through enough light to show the ruin that had been a young man just a few minutes ago. The blade had severed a kidney and torn out the side. It had even gone through the front- there was a lot of intestinal damage, A single blade, and a hell of a slash. He'd been disemboweled from behind.

It was obvious what had happened. One of Wolverine's daughters had come calling. She must have run into the woods, and Scot got her. Wade pulled the brick radio from his belt. "Medic! I need a medic at the graves. One or more hostiles, they went into the woods. Storm, I could really use some rain."

The X-men were already moving, swarming out of the mansion in various states of dress. They moved with purpose, fanning out to all corners of the grounds. Every so often, numbers challenged and responded. The muscular shape of Hank dashed across the grounds, the bulky aid bag on his shoulder. The clouds had been filling in, blocking out the stars before they dropped slashing ribbons of rain into the fire, blowing away from the house and towards the cliffs to keep embers from landing anywhere but the water.

From the smoldering plants, a figure stood up. Wade's pistols were off the ground in an instant. "Three... Two.. One..."

"Seven, eight, nine! It's Shadowcat." Only someone who knew Wade Wilson knew he'd have been counting it down before he fired. She stepped through the devastation, phasing through it. "It's me, Mr Wilson, Kitty."

She was a mess. She had cuts on her forearms and hands, and a nasty one on her head. Muddy and sooty, her hair was frizzed by the heat. In fact, she smelt like a cross between wet dog and burned hair. "What happened to you, kiddo? What were you doing in there?"

"I saw someone hit attack Scott, and then run into the woods. I followed them, and then Scott started shooting, so I dived into the drainage ditch. I forgot about the barbed wire." It had been a good fighting trench for anyone who wanted to just hose down the Institute buildings with a machine gun or two, so filling it with razor wire made sense. Looked like she phased as she just touched it, and banged her head in the process. "I saw them jump off the cliff, into the water. I think it was one of those claw girls."

Kitty had been kidnapped with Nathan Summers-Grey, she'd been babysitting him. They'd been snatched from the park in broad daylight and held hostage for three months, with her imprisoned in an electrified cage. She didn't know what it was made of, but she couldn't phase through it. And they threatened to kill Nathan if she did. She had a lot of hate still for the Wolverine's twins.

Wade nodded- that matched his assessment. Probably had the other one or Mystique's son in a speed boat waiting to pick them up- they'd be half way to Jersey by now.

"Oh god... Scott..." Kitty could see the body now. Or maybe it had taken a moment to fully register. She turned and bent over, vomiting explosively.

A few seconds later, Lance reached the murder site. He'd been about to report that there was nothing in the water- he'd thought of placing boats down there himself, and marking the best spots to jump. There were safe ones among the rocks. But before he could speak, he saw what was left of his friend. He gagged once, and went to his knees next to his girlfriend, adding to the puddle.

With eyes of steel, Magnus surveyed the scene. "You have sown the wind, 'Lord Wolverine'. Even I could not stop this whirlwind, and I will not try."

**---Author's notes:**  
Yes, in this reality, a sane, moral and healthy Deadpool filled the role that Wolverine did at the his Xavier Institute. Mr. Wilson is more fun that Mr. Logan, but he trains you just as hard. And he'd fight any enemy, climb any barrier, cut any deal to keep the kids safe. So now he and Avalanche shall lead them into a war that no shadows can contain.

Jean, Charles and Scott aren't the only three X-men to fall in this war. And they won't be the last. There are those who will not surrender the Mansion- to them, the grave of Charles Xavier is holy ground. Sacred. The Brotherhood gets it over their dead bodies, despite the fact that the Professor would never one to be one figureheads in a what might become a holy war.

_---AoW: Wolverine's command post_

Toad read the email for a moment, eyes getting wider by the word. "Holy crap. BOSS!"

Heads lifted and turned. Logan's voice was a rumble. "Yes?"

"Your spy reports that Cyclops is dead and condition Black-3 has been achieved."

"This _is_ good news. Thank you." His smile was feral. Logan growled happily, almost a purr of contentment. Black-3 meant that he could remove the X-men at will, and the loss of one of their most skilled fighters and tacticians was almost as welcome.

Rogue and Kurt shared a glance. They had known Scott, when Mystique had been an instructor at Xavier's school for weaklings. He hadn't been a bad guy, just naive. He'd chosen his side in this war, and lost.

Katrina sighed wistfully, while Laura slipped from the table, to reward the messenger with a short kiss on his cheek and a fast nuzzle. "Good Toady."


End file.
